


Tell Me All The Ways

by EryiScrye (SomberSecrets)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Meeting at a Masquerade Ball AU, Meeting at a Party Whilst Drunk AU, One Night Stand and Falling Pregnant AU, Partners in Crime au, Short Fic Prompt Collection, Writer and Editor AU, going away to war au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomberSecrets/pseuds/EryiScrye
Summary: A "short" fic prompt collection, all of which aim to be a little ridiculous, a lot fluffy, and mostly feel good. AUs are in the tags in chapter order 😁“And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.” – Kiersten White
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 119
Kudos: 175





	1. Partners in Crime AU

**Author's Note:**

> A series of (probably) stand alone ficlets from a particular prompt collection on Tumblr. Follow me there! I'm eryiscrye 😘
> 
> Thank you to it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined for this first prompt! Partners in Crime AU!

It amused Brienne that Jaime always got a little to a lot angry by just how easy it was to get away with what was essentially high way robbery. Everyone that was anyone in King’s Landing knew that he was dangerous, that even though cloud storage was definitely not safe, physical storage wasn’t really any better.

Jaime could steal a beating heart right out of a person’s chest and they would never know until it was too late. Brienne knew this with certainty, because he had done it to her. Hearts though, were not his usual targets. If anything, Jaime had convinced her of the fact that he had only ever attempted, and subsequently succeeded, in stealing one.

His target was usually data. Data that could destroy empires, that routed out corruption, which freed the innocent, and which imprisoned the guilty. Everyone knew it was him, tearing their rich and terrible society apart, but not a single one of them could prove it.

They knew he had an accomplice, because he must’ve had an accomplice. And this was what always got Jaime so angry, because not a single soul in the world had ever guessed that it could be her, that maybe he was the accomplice. It was as though a man as beautiful as him would never think to align himself with anyone so homely.

It was ludicrous and amusing how someone as conspicuous as her, well over six foot and uncomfortable at every event they executed their heists, was getting away with nary a suspicion. For god-like Jaime Lannister to even deign to talk to ugly Brienne Tarth was preposterous. They probably thought that every time she brushed past him, it was because the simple island girl had put herself in his way for just the chance at even the slightest of touches. That there was no way that the slow and tongue-tied giant could have been the one to plan every heist Jaime enacted. It was how they had gotten away with everything for years.

Brienne had minded what they all thought at first, when her father had dragged her kicking and screaming into the bright lights of King’s Landing’s high society. It even bothered her still after she began hacking, after she began teaming up with Jaime, though never to the point that it interfered with how her and then their operations worked. She had been taught that she was ugly since she was a child, as an adult it was just a continuous lesson.

But now, now she didn’t mind at all. Because, now, the more angry Jaime got that their society couldn’t fathom his association with her, the more he felt he had to endevour to prove to her that they were wrong. His passions had always been high, but after a heist where she was in any way insulted, which was really most heists, they were even higher. She had learned after several incidents to take the day after a heist off from work, lest she stumble into her office late, sore, and covered in love bites that she had to unconvincingly pass off as mysterious bruises.

She had never thought it possible that he would choose her, fuck her… love her, but he did and she did. And gods, if anyone even thought to survey her small dingy apartment in Flea Bottom, they would see evidence of him there every night, not just hovering over her shoulder as she hacked into any files that were still foolishly uploaded onto the cloud or fucking her on the one luxury item she owned, but cooking and cleaning and annoying the crap out of her with his incessant teasing while he span her around the living room.

One day they would retire from all the subterfuge. Hopefully, it would be the day they weren’t needed anymore. Jaime promised her it would definitely be the day that the world would know he loved her. She understood the sentiment of that promise, but she didn’t need it.

She knew he loved her every time their eyes met, every time they touched, with every tile he scrubbed clean even though he hadn’t scrubbed anything in his life before he met her, and every meal he helped cook even if he always managed to burn a few things. She knew he loved and trusted her with his life every time he slipped into her hand, what was ultimately his fate.

Partners. In every way, they would always be partners.


	2. Meeting at a Masquerade Ball AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Anon for prompting Meeting at a Masquerade Ball. It's also a high school AU and I uh... took some liberties with the definition of short, but it is shorter than a The Ties That Bind chapter!

When Brienne caught sight of the notices, taped onto every available locker and wall, her better judgment flew out the window and instead was replaced with the sweet stories of every single romantic fairy tale she had ever loved. It was a chance, possibly her only chance, and Brienne Tarth was going to do her best to take it. 

She didn’t have a mother or any sisters to help her find a dress, or really any friends who would help her do so either, Catelyn having graduated and gone to Winterfell University the year before, but luckily the women at the small dress boutique down by her father’s dock took pity on her and had time enough to spend hours looking for something, _anything,_ that would give her the best chance she had at not being recognized. Because that was what it came down to. She simply couldn’t be recognized at King’s Landing High’s bi-annual ball or else it would all be _over._

She remembered the first and only other time she had attended… tried to attend one of the dances, Ronnet Connington throwing blood red roses at her feet in front of everyone before they had even entered the hall. She never wanted to feel like _that_ again.

There were no girls at her school that were as tall as she was, but if the dress was floor length all around, she could pretend she was stumbling around in six inch stiletto heels. Her body was broad and boxy, but with the right bodice and skirt, maybe she could give the illusion that she was averagely sized and somewhat curvy. And if all else failed, at least KLH’s balls typically took place in terribly lit halls. She had once been callously told that all women were the same in the dark, but for once she hoped it were true.

Brienne smoothed her hand over the beautiful silver mask she had bought. It looked better in person than it did online and that only cemented her ideation that this was meant to be. A masquerade ball, how lucky was she that KLH’s student committee would decide upon that theme for the last ball of her high school days. The mask wouldn’t cover her entire face, but it would cover everything identifiable and unseemly about her: her nose, her lips, the giant scar on her cheek. The mask would even cover up the majority of the dirty smatterings that were her freckles, a thick layer of foundation taking care of the rest.

It would be enough. It _had_ to be enough.

* * *

Like with every other ball since Jaime had bashed Ronnet’s teeth out of his head for humiliating her in front of everyone, he pestered her about attending this one too. They had known each other since they were kids, but that first high school dance had been the first time that he had seemed to take any real notice of her. Brienne learned the hard way that once Jaime Lannister took notice, he never _didn’t_ again.

Well, ‘the hard way’ was putting it unkindly. He had been annoying at first, his penchant for popping up out of nowhere and incessantly teasing her grating, but eventually, when literal push had come to literal shove, he had proven to be her most loyal and closest friend. The scars on his right hand and the one on her cheek would probably bind them for life.

So it felt horrible lying to him. “I’m not going,” she said not looking up from her notes, knowing that he would instantly see the deception in her eyes.

Jaime flopped on the table beside her to try and shoot his big, puppy eyes straight into her soul. She turned ever so slightly away so that he couldn’t land a direct hit. “Come on Brienne, it’s the last one before we head off to university.”

“Good riddance.”

Jaime scowled and folded his arms beneath his head. His fists clenched, “Don’t tell me this still has to do with Connington.”

Brienne’s silence and the stiffening of her jaw was all the answer he needed.

Jaime practically growled, “Forget what that fucking useless lump of trash did. The bastard isn’t worth it. Come with me to the ball.”

For a moment Brienne imaged that he meant as his date, but he didn’t. He never did. And she needed to get her silly hopes under control before they moved in together at Riverrun University. “No, Jaime.”

“Then what will we be doing that night?”

“I’ll be helping my dad at the docks,” she lied, and hoped her father remembered to corroborate her story when Jaime inevitably pestered him, “You’ll be enjoying yourself at the dance.” At least she hoped.

Jaime frowned and poked her arm, “I’m not going to enjoy myself if you aren’t there.”

What he said was kind, although it was a blatantly untrue. “You’ve enjoyed yourself fine enough every other ball I haven’t attended.”

“I haven’t.”

“Then why do you still go?”

Jaime stayed silent.

Brienne thought so.

* * *

Jaime angrily pulled on his stupid tuxedo jacket. He had been so sure that he would be able to convince Brienne to go to at least one dance in all their high school years together, but not once had he succeeded. Even begging Selwyn to cajole her into going to this last one hadn’t worked, and Brienne’s father had simply chuckled all through out the phone call as though what Jaime had to say was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Even imploring him to give her the night off so that Jaime could at least spend it with her hadn’t touched Selwyn’s usually big, beating heart, and the man had simply told Jaime to just ‘go to the damn ball, son’. Unhelpful, everyone was being unbelievably unhelpful.

“You’re creasing everything,” Cersei said as she slid between him and the mirror with his bow tie, folded handkerchief, and cufflinks in hand, “It won’t do to look like a slob.”

“I don’t care.”

Cersei rolled her eyes so hard that it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of their sockets. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?” She smoothed out his outfit with several sharp tugs and stuffed the handkerchief into his suit pocket.

Jaime pursed his lips. 

One of Cersei’s eyebrows lifted in a perfect arch as she threw the tie around his still popped collar and began to tie it with deft hands, “Have you tried the simple but straight forward, ‘I love you’?”

Jaime’s lips pursed even more. No matter how many times he had tried, Brienne had always added ‘but only as a friend’ to his blatant statement or airily laughed it off as though he would say it to just _anyone_.

“My god,” Cersei muttered, “She’s as thick as she is stubborn.”

“Cersei…” Jaime hissed in warning.

She pulled the bow taught, flipped down his collar, and patted his chest, “Not an insult. Wouldn’t want you to do to me what you did to the soccer team. Does she even know?” Cersei moved on to doing up his cuffs. His twin sister always had a knack for making him feel like an overgrown child.

“No,” Jaime muttered. The moment he had heard of the bet, he had put everyone involved in their place. No one in the world deserved to have that happen to them, much less sweet, softhearted Brienne.

“Do you think she’s going to finally show up this time?” Cersei asked, a smirk curling on her lips, “Give you a chance to finally sweep her off her feet.”

“Fuck off.”

“Because if you’re going to be in a mood all night, again, I’m not associating myself with you any further,” she straightened out both his sleeves, took a step back and nodded. 

Jaime frowned. He hadn’t told anyone. He had definitely not told his sister, but still she knew that the only reason he still attended these damn balls was on the off chance that Brienne would decide to show up last minute and he could finally, finally, show her how he felt. It was stupid, but he loved those fairy tales too and hoped that maybe if he told her he loved her at a damn ball, she would finally fucking believe him. But knowing that there was no chance Brienne was going to be coming at all tonight… well… what was even the point?

Cersei sighed as she picked up the mask he had chosen for the night, “Blue really isn’t your colour.”

“I resent that.”

She set the mask down, “And you’re an idiot.” Cersei swept out of the room.

* * *

Brienne entered the hall, her nerves making her stumble at the threshold, even in her flats. At least she didn’t have to fake wearing stiletto heels. 

As she had hoped, the whole place was lit quite poorly with splashes of purple and blue light mainly hitting and reflecting off the walls and spotlights only scattered here and there. Music reverberated through the air, overpowering the din of mingled conversation. The songs being played were a mix of pop melodies that were easy to dance to and waltz’s that carried the theme of the night. People were dancing everywhere, scattered among the conversations and tables filled with food and drink, rather than just on the dance floor, and it made the entire event feel somewhat surreal.

Some of the students she could identify quickly even with their masks on, Cersei Lannister’s shining golden ringlets and signature blood red lipstick making her prominent among the population, but most of the rest were like strangers in a crowd. She hoped she looked like a stranger too. 

Cersei’s hair standing out so much in the dim lights of the hall gave her hope that it wouldn’t be so hard to find the one person she wanted to find. She just wanted to have one dance with him before the stroke of midnight came and they would live the rest of their lives out as the best of friends. It would hurt to see him date and bring back to their apartment girls he would assuredly meet and fall in love with in university, but at least she would always have tonight. That was, _if_ she could find him.

It took her nearly an hour and unlike where she thought he would be, surrounded by guys and girls, laughing and enjoying the night under one of the glowing spotlights, she found him alone, standing in the shadows. 

Nervously, she moved towards him. At her approach he instinctively seemed to recoil, and Brienne swallowed uneasily. Did he recognize her? Was he waiting for someone? She thought that he would have been happy to see a friend even if he did recognize her. Well there was only one way to find out. 

“Um excuse me,” she murmured, her voice muffled and altered by her mask, “Would you like to dance?”

Jaime huffed, “Sorry, I’m no—” and then he turned towards her and seemed surprised that he had to look up, “I…” His eyes met hers, then sparked and _glowed_. “I would.”

Brienne couldn’t help but smile, her disguise had worked.

* * *

He had nearly bailed last minute, thinking that it would be better to just mope on the couch and text Brienne constantly until she just angrily called him. Then, maybe, he could at least lure her into chatting with him all through the night. 

His little brother was the only reason he hadn’t though. Cersei wouldn’t lift a finger to protect him and Jaime knew that high school was liable to try and hurt him as much as it had hurt Brienne. Teenagers were ruthless, but especially so on the night of KLH’s bi-annual balls. 

About five minutes after they had arrived though, his protective instincts were all deemed pointless. Unlike Brienne, Tyrion had a penchant for making friends, even if they were minorly unsavory ones, and he was off doing whatever he had planned to do. Jaime leaned against the wall, enjoying the slight anonymity his mask gave him even if he wasn’t enjoying anything else. At least he didn’t have to spend the whole night turning down dances from every girl who only saw the Lannister heir or his handsome looks. 

About an hour after arriving, Jaime considered going home, changing into something comfortable and joining Brienne at the docks despite her and her father’s protestations. If there was no chance that she was coming, he would have much rather spent the night with her, trying desperately to tell her, again, how he felt. It was silly, he knew. He would have a million more chances, but it almost seemed wrong to move in with her before making his feelings utterly clear. If she didn’t feel the same way, wouldn’t his pining just one bedroom away bother her?

He heard the swish of skirts before he saw them and prepared himself to reject the girl. There was only one person he had wanted to dance with tonight. 

“Um excuse me.” She sounded so nervous and so familiar. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he looked away. He already felt bad for rejecting her outright, but there was just no other way. “Would you like to dance?”

Jaime sighed, “Sorry, I’m no—“ and then he turned to look her in the face as he dismissed her and found that he had to tilt his chin up to meet her eyes. _Her_ eyes. “I…” _Brienne’s_ eyes. Oh god. Brienne was here! Brienne was asking him to dance. He scrambled for the _only_ answer, “I would!”

Her eyes sparkled in a way that told him she was smiling, even though he couldn’t see the majority of her face and he wondered why it was she had chosen such a ridiculous mask. It hid all of the unique and precious features of her: her nose, her lips, her cheek.

Jaime’s eyes narrowed as he reached his unscarred hand up to brush against the only section of exposed skin. “Come on, then,” he managed to say as he pulled her out of the shadows and into a little stream of light. When he looked at her again, he realized that it hadn’t just been a trick of the darkness, she _had_ covered all her darling freckles under a heavy layer of make up. Jaime swallowed as he beheld her. Did she think…? No. Impossible.

She looked nervous now, under the light, “Maybe we should dance over there,” she said, and pointed at the shadows. 

Oh gods, _she did._ “No,” Jaime said with force, “Here suits me fine.” He took her hand and pulled her in, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Brienne gasped at his touch and he wondered if she was blushing. He couldn’t tell. And he hated it. 

As they danced, Jaime wondered if he should tell her he knew who she was. It was obvious that she thought she had to hide herself from him, but he just couldn’t, for the life of him, fathom _why_. But as she tightened her grip on him and they leaned closer and closer as one song ended and another began, he found that he cared less and less so long as she was in his arms. 

He nuzzled the hair at her temple and she sighed happily. He decided that instant, and without hesitation, that she had to know he knew it was her. “Brienne,” he murmured into her ear, and held her tighter as she jerked in his arms. 

“How did you…?”

“Did you really think I could ever mistake you for someone else?” Jaime asked.

Brienne quivered, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“I only said yes because I knew it was you.”

He let her draw away from him just enough so that they could see each other’s faces. “What?” she asked, softly, “Why?” her voice even more tender.

Jaime smiled at her, then lifted and span her mask so that instead of covering her face, it shielded them from the rest of the world. He was relieved to see that she hadn’t covered the rest of her freckles. His scarred hand went to brush her scarred cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He leaned and kissed her.


	3. One Night Stand and Falling Pregnant AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Anon for prompting One Night Stand and Falling Pregnant AU! This one wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to write and actually I kind of love the little world :D

Brienne wanted to tear her hair out and scream. How hard was it to find the hottest person in Westeros? Really, she should have been able to type in blonde hair + green eyes + GOD into SpiderWEB and he should have been the first result that sprung up. But no, he was not the first result. He wasn’t even the second. He didn’t appear any where on the first or - Seven forbid she had actually clicked them in sheer desperation - the second or the third page. She had tried altering her search terms to include descriptions like golden, and emerald, and Warrior, but none of those had worked either.

Had his sheer hotness been a figment of her imagination. She wouldn’t put it past her. Her first and, she determined, her only one night stand, and she had done it all wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Who learned _everything_ about a guy and then fucked him without at least getting his first name?

And this was the problem. They _had_ talked about everything in that dimly lit, medieval style, frankly ridiculous bar. From her childhood traumas to how she was trying to get past them, from his mistakes to his future hopes and dreams. Most relevantly, they had talked about how both of them dreamed about having children of their own, a family they both never really had, and how neither of them really knew how to make that into their reality.

Brienne put a hand over her flat stomach. Well, this was probably not what he had meant by a family, a slap dash one-night stand where the contraception had gone wrong. But still, maybe he deserved to know that she was going to keep it so that he could have a chance at being a dad, no other strings attached and no obligations if he didn’t. 

Brienne groaned as she looked at her watch. She would have to continue her search of him another day. She needed to get to the studio. Grabbing her camera bag and her other bag full of gear, Brienne exited her apartment and began to make her way towards downtown. 

She didn’t know what to think about her client today, some rich heir who up until this point had somehow avoided getting his photo taken and was only doing so now because he wouldn’t be just an heir for much longer. Her client’s agent had told her, in quite unprofessional exasperation, that her client often thought that he was “too hot to handle”, but the tongue-in-cheek tone of the agent’s voice did make her wonder if it was true. Not the hot part, the part about the fact that someone actually thought that about themselves.

Brienne had disregarded the middle name of her client, which the agent had given her, knowing that “fookin’” was definitely not right, and had tried to SpiderWEB one “Jaime Lannister”. There wasn’t even a single pap photo of him. How an heir to a fortune managed that, she would never know. His twin though, who looked oddly familiar, was splashed everywhere.

Brienne sighed as she reached her studio and unlocked the door. Podrick would be arriving to help assist in about half an hour, but the first part of the day was always her own. 

It gave her time to reintroduce herself to all of her equipment, feel the weight of her camera in her hands, play with the way the sun would affect the lighting, and just in general, breath the successes, the good things, in her life in. Today, it also allowed her to think more of the mysterious stranger who she had bedded.

She had woken up in a hotel room, the morning after, a little bit hung over, sore, and covered in hickeys, finger print bruises, and light abrasions that must have been from his beard. He had been nowhere in sight, his clothes gone, and she had snuck out as quickly as she could. It made her a little bit sad to know that she hadn’t been anything more than a quick - well not quick, they had gone on for _hours_ \- fuck, but at least she would always have the hazy memories of the best sex of her life. 

Brienne sighed again. Maybe he didn’t want to hear from her. Maybe everything he had told her had been a wonderfully fabricated lie. Though… she didn’t think that a man who looked like him would need a sweet and vulnerable back story to tumble any woman he wanted.

Podrick arrived five minutes early with two cups of coffee, which they drank together as they discussed which sets to pull out for the session. If their client liked the first set of shots, then the next time they would go off-site to some of Brienne’s favourite places to take photos.

Exactly an hour after Podrick arrived, a brown haired man charged into the studio with a loud clattering of the bell that hung over her door. “You Brienne Tarth?” he asked and held out his hand.

“You must be Bronn,” Brienne greeted and shook it. 

He nodded at her, “Jaime’ll be in in a minute. He’s just being all moony on the phone, has been all week. The love sick twat. Can’t even do casual sex right.”

Brienne raised her eyebrow at the easy familiarity of which Bronn discussed his client, even with him right outside. It said a lot about Jaime Lannister if he tolerated this kind of lip service and she kind of liked him already.

The bell above her door rang, “Have you already turned the photographer against me, Bronn? I only gave you about a minute.”

Brienne turned and held out her hand, “No Mr. Lannister, he…”

And there he was, her golden haired, emerald eyed, Warrior God.

Jaime Lannister dropped his phone in shock while letting out a breathy, “You…”

Bronn looked between them, “Oh! So she’s the one you’ve been desperately searching for. Thank the fookin’ Seven, I’ll never have to listen to you mooning after her again.”

Bronn was right, but he was also wrong. He never stopped hearing about Brienne and then, nine months later, Evie Tarth-Lannister ever again.


	4. Going to War AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lovelylittlewren on Tumblr for the prompt! I... have very little knowledge of the army, so please excuse any inaccuracies.

Jaime liked to say that the most significant event of his last tour of duty was meeting Brienne. Everyone couldn’t help but gawk at his missing hand after that, but Jaime was never facetious. When he said this, he meant it with all his heart, because as much as losing his hand had been a life-altering event, meeting his wife had inevitably been more so.

They had gotten married only days after he was honourably discharged, in a small wedding in a flower strewn meadow near her childhood home on Tarth. After that, they had been given six wonderful months together before Brienne had to leave on her next deployment. 

Jaime stood with the friends and family, a perspective of which he was so unfamiliar, as Brienne finalized the last of her arrangements with Jon Snow. It still irked Jaime that the  _ child _ he had met years before was now a Staff Sergeant, but after know what that man had survived, had persevered through, Jaime could see how it had happened.

Jaime knew the moment that Brienne was done with the details, because she immediately rounded towards him and took long, sure strides to his side. “Sergeant Tarth,” Jaime nodded, but instead of saluting her, he took her into his arms. 

Brienne came into him and enveloped him easily. He loved the way she could wrap around him. Keep him safe. “Jaime,” she breathed. He felt her grip on him tighten.

He swallowed down his urge to cry. They had already processed their sadness together days ago. In front of other people, her strength, her honour, her dedication to those who needed her needed more from him than that. “Don’t… don’t be afraid to tell them if something is wrong, Brienne.” She had passed the psych evaluation with flying colours, but he knew from experience that processing one’s trauma was an ongoing process.

She pulled away from him ever so slightly. He raised a hand to brush the scar on her cheek with the pad of his thumb and then ran it down her neck to touch the scars that ripped across her clavicle. “I’ll be okay, Jaime.” He wanted to believe her, but he had also seen her  _ not _ okay. Had fallen in love with her when they had  _ both _ been not okay. The resilience of the woman in front of him once again overwhelmed him.

“Promise me you’ll come home, Brienne.”

He knew that he was asking something she couldn’t guarantee, and she knew it too, so she simply pressed her forehead to his. Her hand reached out to bring his stump to her lips, where she so sweetly kissed it. He had felt unable to wear his prosthetic today and now he knew why. They were both okay now. “I love you, Jaime.”

“I love you, too.”

“Sergeant Tarth!”

Brienne’s eyes flashed as she looked over her shoulder briefly then back at him, “I have to go now, Jaime.”

Jaime nodded, “I know.”

“I’ll think of you every day.”

He smiled and remembered her words, “And live.”

Brienne didn’t say the words, but her smile said it all. 

And then she was gone.

That was when he realized there were many ways to come home.

Six months later, Jaime stood in the same spot he had been when she had left, with the same friends and family, even though they were now all slightly older. Soldiers were coming off the plane, and although Jaime knew what to expect, he still wasn’t ready. He could feel himself shaking, the emotion wracking. 

Finally, the sapphire of her eyes shone in the sunlight.

“Jaime! I’m home!”


	5. Writer and Editor AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU was requested by both abrokencrevice and anon! So two birds with one stone. Once again the definition of short is... shorter than a The Ties That Bind Chapter. Enjoy!

Jaime ended the call and immediately threw his phone onto his kitchen island, not caring that it might slide along the marble and topple onto the floor. But luckily it didn’t. Unluckily, it hit a stack of paper and sent sheets flying absolutely everywhere. He would deal with those later. He had T-minus 10 minutes to finish his preparation, T-minus 8 minutes if Brienne was more pissed off with him than her terse tone had implied. 

He pulled on two oven mitts and opened the oven door. Heat billowed out along with the tantalizing smells of spices and garlic and Jaime’s lips curled in delight. He reached into the oven and pulled out the cast iron skillet, filled to the brim and bubbling with chicken, chickpeas, and a harissa sauce made from scratch. Quickly, he slid to his dining room table and set the cast iron skillet onto a marble trivet, which, he had learned several practice sessions ago, were highly necessary when dealing with very hot dishes fresh from the oven. There had been many,  _ many _ practice sessions. Tyrion and Cersei and Addam and Elia and Catelyn were sick of chicken, chickpeas, and harissa now. But it was all paying off. It  _ had _ to pay off.

Jaime adjusted the positioning of the large bowl of couscous mixed with lemon, coriander and pomegranate seeds, the bottle of wine, the wine glasses, the cutlery, and the plates then stepped back and nodded. Running back into the kitchen, Jaime shut the oven door, turned it off – a task that he now never forgot after one unfortunate mishap– and grabbed a lighter. 

Running back to the dinning room table, he lit the two candles between the cast iron skillet and the bowl of couscous, relishing in the clean citrus smell they gave off. Brienne loved citrus. She must’ve. She always smelled like citrus. It made his relationship with oranges very complicated.

Lastly, Jaime ran into his office, grabbed a large binder full of paper and a small flash drive shaped like a sword and then ran out again to set the objects precariously on the dining room table where there was still space.

He frowned. The new objects threw the ambiance of the whole set up way off. Jaime picked up the binder and left the flash drive. Now, the damn thing was liable to be knocked onto the ground and lost in his dimly lit dining room, and turning on the lights to go crawling around on the floor looking around for it would  _ definitely  _ throw off the ambiance of the evening. Jaime picked up the flash drive and tucked it back into the binder.

How the hell had he not thought of this? The dumb binder was so fucking integral to his whole plan!

His doorbell began screeching at him.

Jaime looked at his watch and grimaced. She had arrived within 7 minutes. She was definitely pissed off at him. That was  _ also _ not what he had been going for. He went over to his phone and activated its connection to the building intercom. “Hello,” he said as cheerily as he could while hurriedly trying to gather up all the scattered paper back into a neat pile.

“Let me up Jaime or so help me—“

“Buzzing you in!” he merrily shouted over the rest of her words and heard not only the clack of the building door opening but the stomping of her feet too. Too late Jaime thought that maybe he had gotten the balance of practice sessions and due dates wrong.

It was all by the by now. He was  _ going _ to make this work.

He had met Brienne over three years ago. She was meant to be the next in a long line of editors whom he would eventually get sick and tired of, the next in a line of editors whom only wanted to ride on the coat tails of a man who had once written award winning best sellers that had  _ meant  _ something, even though he just  _ couldn’t _ anymore. She was meant to be another editor that would push him to write and publish  _ anything _ as long as it had his name on it, because as long as it had his name and face on it, it would sell. 

But Brienne had been none of those things. Firstly, she had hated what his novels had become. She had confessed to being an avid fan of the first, and second, and third books as a teen and still as an adult… but then she had become disgusted, as he had, with the rest. She hadn’t even wanted to be in the line of editors vying for him. She had made it clear from the very first day that she was only working with him as a favour to Olenna, and that their relationship was surely set to implode. 

The joke was on both of them though. Through the natural chemistry of their dynamic, Jaime had been angry – no –  _ passionate _ enough about her and the way that she dismantled him, goaded him, drove him, and inspired him, that he had once again released something that  _ meant  _ something, although the book had taken years before it had won anything and then subsequently become a best seller. But that was it. The moment that spark was back, she was his for forever. Or in truth, he was hers. 

The rest was just inevitable.

The sound of fists on his door echoed into his flat. “Jaime Lannister! You better have that first draft for me or I am going to rip your—“

Jaime threw open the front door and waved the binder and flash drive at Brienne, “Have it right here!” He interrupted snarkily and then his mouth went dry as a wave of citrus hit him. 

“Why in all names do you have a printed version? Are you being all old again? We’ve discussed this!” Brienne raved madly, and then, “Have you decided to adopt the vampire life style? Why are there no lights on in your flat?” Brienne asked with a furrowed brow.

Jaime just simply continued to gape. Was this how she had gotten here in 7 minutes? Because she hadn’t even bothered to put on real clothes? Not real clothes being a complete misnomer. Brienne  _ was _ fully dressed, just dressed in a way that he had never seen her dressed before.

As his editor, he had mostly seen her in clean-cut pantsuits, plain blouses, and just typical, absurdly conservative work attire. She was never anything but professional for their conferences, book signings, dull company meetings, and even when she came barreling into his apartment to wrestle the next draft from him about ten minutes before they were meant to be due to her. Which was about two days before they were usually due to the publisher. She really gave him too much slack. But he was charming like that.

However, the Brienne before him now… well. She was wearing a big, baggy, blue sweater that hung off one shoulder – showing him that she was either wearing a strapless bra or  _ not wearing one at all _ -, soft cotton shorts that barely reached mid-thigh – highlighting the extreme length of her very freckled legs –, her hair was a soft bird’s nest around her head – whereas usually it was in a utilitarian bun-, and the fucking cutest wire frame classes were haphazardly perched on the crook of her nose. He didn’t even know that she wore glasses. 

She looked bloody adorable and Jaime was not ready for the assault on his senses. 

Brienne waved a hand in front of his face, “Jaime? Have you started getting migraines? Is that why your flat is so dark? You could have told me, I would have convinced the publishing company to extend your deadline.”

And she would have. If he told her he was having any real problems, and not well… just being the annoying person he inherently was, she would do everything in her power to help him. It was this kind of strong-willed  _ caring _ that made him—

“I’m okay,” Jaime managed to rasp out, “Please come in.”

Brienne tipped her head curiously, “I can just take your draft if that’s it,” she pointed at the binder and flash drive in his hands, “You can take the rest of the night to relax and I’ll get out of your hair—“

“No!” Jaime managed to shout out, “I…” Ah… right. Now he remembered what he had forgotten to rehearse. He had spent so much time perfecting the meal he had planned to cook for them that he had never quite gotten to the part about how to actually ask her if she wanted to eat it with him. No wonder every single one of his fucking siblings and friends seemed to be in on the same joke. They all knew this moment had gone right over his head. He was going to kill them all.

At that moment, Brienne’s phone chimed several times and she peeked at it, obviously intending to just take a quick look before giving him back her full attention, but then she did a double take and went through the whole process of unlocking her phone to take in the full contents of whatever was sent to her. 

“Um…” Brienne murmured as her cheeks went splotchy pink. How in all names was she getting cuter? Then, oddly, she held her phone out to him, “Jaime. What is she talking about?”

_ Jaime’s Friend Elia: He’s trying to invite you in for dinner. Please say yes and end his misery _

_ Jaime’s Friend Elia: End all of our misery. I can’t eat any more couscous _

_ Jaime’s Friend Elia: Sorry that was Addam _

_ Jaime’s Friend Elia: AND ALSO MAKE SURE TO READ CHAPTER 12 WHILE YOUR STILL AT HIS PLACE!!! HE’S BETTER AT WRITING THAN ARTICULATING HIS FEELINGS _

_ Jaime’s Friend Elia: Just read the damn title _

_ Jaime’s Friend Elia: And we don’t mean this for editorial purposes Brienne _

_ Jaime’s friend Elia: Sorry that was Tyrion then Cersei then Catelyn. I’m locking my phone now. Just say yes _

Jaime blinked as he read the messages, and then his eye twitched. He threw a scathing glare toward the apartment across the hall – Elia’s apartment – and wondered how many people had their ear pressed to the door on the other side. 

Brienne stood on her tippy toes, which meant that she was now near a head taller than him, to get a better look into his place. “Are those candles? Jaime, why do you have candles lit?”

Jaime swore he heard snickering and couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed her forearm and pulled her into his flat, tossing one last glare at Elia’s peephole. He slammed his door shut. 

Brienne, meanwhile, had used the momentum he had given her to progress deeper into his apartment and into his dining room – where the only source of light was flickering – and he found her just standing at the threshold. When he came to her side, she looked over at him. “What is this Jaime?” she asked in what sounded like a desperate whisper.

Jaime sighed and rubbed the back of his head, “I was going to ask you if you wanted to have dinner with me, but I’m just realizing I never even asked if you’ve already had dinner.”

“I haven’t had dinner yet,” Brienne murmured as she looked back at the set up and then back at him. Her eyes scanned his whole body, going from head to toe. He had dressed up for the occasion, in a white, tailored dress shirt – the sleeves still rolled up to his elbows from when he was cooking – and dark gray, wool slacks. His effort looked silly beside her extremely casual attire. “Is this… a writer and editor dinner, Jaime? Like a ‘sorry, I left this draft until the last possible minute’ dinner?”

Jaime shook his head and couldn’t help but grin at her. She was so sweet and oblivious. Apparently  _ everyone else _ knew. “I think Catelyn told you that it isn’t.”

Her eyes turned back to the table. It was so gentle and affectionate, the small “Oh” that wooshed from her lips. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the awfully romantic looking set up. “What’s the title of your new book? You’ve refused to tell me for months now.”

He opened the binder to the first page. Printed on it were the words: ‘I Dreamed of Blue’. He didn’t know if he was happy with it. But he didn’t think any words would be able to encapsulate the entirety of his heart and soul.

He watched Brienne swallow nervously, but also shift closer to him. His heart bloomed. “What happens in chapter 12?”

Jaime’s fingers tapped nervously as she slowly met his gaze. Gods, the ways her eyes sparkled. He wanted to kiss her. “The main characters finally tell each other how they feel.”


	6. Meeting at a Party Whilst Drunk AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by my wonderful beta PandaLewis! This was the idea I had and I stuck to my guns even if the party is a little bit in the background... and so is the drunkeness xD. I just love dragging people into pools. I'm sorry I'm one of those people ha.

Brienne stabbed her icy drink several times with her straw and attempted to get more out of her pina colada with noisy drags that resulted in her mouth being filled with sweet flavoured air and tiny bits of ice. She could have just gone to the bar to get another one - the drinks were unlimited at the resort Catelyn had dragged her to for Spring Break!™ - but that would mean having to give up her relatively isolated spot sitting on the ledge behind the pool bar where the music wasn’t as loud and she didn’t have to see the other spring breakers making an absolute nuisance of themselves partying the night away.

In truth, she kind of wished she had the nerve to join all of them. They seemed like they were having fun flirting, laughing, screaming, getting sloshed, and taking turns spiking a beach volley ball at each other’s faces, but she wasn’t that kind of person. She was pretty bad at interacting with people she wasn’t good friends with in general, and she didn’t want to make Catelyn feel as though she had to spend the whole night with her just because she was socially inept. 

Brienne tried for another loud slurp and wondered if it would be better to just go to bed. With everyone partying the night away, she would get the resort to herself bright and early the next morning.

She was about to pull her legs out of the water when a dark shadow torpedoed towards her and latched on to her ankle, causing her to shout and kick out. A golden head popped out of the water, droplets spraying everywhere as Jaime laughed while trying to avoid a blow to the chest. “So this is where you’ve been, freckles!”

Brienne blushed a blotchy red and scowled, “Let go of me Lannister!”

“I’ve only just found you,” he crowed merrily and tugged on her ankle with just enough force for her to fear being pulled into the pool, but not actually enough to move her. “For being so tall, you can be really damn hard to find.”

Brienne frowned and noted that his eyes weren’t their usual emerald colour, but more like sea glass. “How many drinks have you had?”

Jaime chuckled and wrapped both his arms around her knees, effectively anchoring himself to her, soaking her thighs, and preventing all means of escape. “Only a few. Why aren’t you wearing your bikini?”

Brienne looked away and tried to yank her legs free of his grip. She had worn the darned thing on the first day - with Catelyn’s encouragement - but when Ronnet had pointed and laughed, calling on his friends to come view the ‘spectacle’, she had spent the rest of her time at the resort in board shorts and rash vests. Oddly enough, she hadn’t seen Ronnet or any of those guys since.

“The blue looked really nice on you,” Jaime continued.

“Don’t mock me!” Brienne hissed.

Jaime frowned and held onto her tighter, “I’m not mocking you, freckles!”

“And what’s with that nickname anyways?” Brienne snapped.

Jaime gave her an easy drunken grin, “Also why I liked that bikini, I could see all your freckles.” And then he laid his head on her lap. “You should come join us. I’ve been waiting all night for you,” he murmured and then  _ nuzzled _ .

“No you haven’t,” Brienne muttered and stirred her slightly melted drink. Maybe she wasn’t as sober as she thought she was if she was softening up to Jaime this quickly. It usually took a few more barbs. 

“I have been,” Jaime retorted, “I only found you because of all the racket you were making with that drink. Here, let me get you another one.”

Before she could tell him no, he had swam off to the pool bar. 

Brienne sat there for a bit wondering if she should just go back to her room. The relationship that she had with Jaime was a… strange one. They had started off on the wrong foot – Catelyn’s dislike for him influencing Brienne’s opinions and her friendship with Catelyn influencing Jaime’s – but through multiple encounters in and out of university they had discovered that they had a lot in common, and even, weirdly enough, that when they were together they were pretty good at lifting each other up. Sometimes literally. She felt  _ things _ for him, many things that confused and calmed her. But still… they weren’t exactly what anyone would define as  _ friends _ . 

Brienne decided to wait for him to return, and it turned out not to be a humiliating decision when she saw him tip toe around the pool bar, the water lapping at his chin as he tried not to drown while also guarding his two drinks in hand. “You just had to choose the deep end of the pool, freckles!” Jaime shouted teasingly, and then his face went underwater as he quickly paddled to her and she took both of the plastic cups off of him so that he could breathe. 

Instead of using the ledge, like a normal person, to hover in the water, Jaime crossed his arm on her lap, rested his chin between her knees and held his cold drink against her thigh. Brienne hissed at him and Jaime just grabbed her ankle again and lazily swung it about. 

“So why don’t you come join us? You could smack that ball into Edmure’s face and end all of our misery.”

Brienne swirled her drink and then drank half of it in one go. It went down so fast she barely tasted the coconut and pineapple. “I’m always afraid of putting my foot in my mouth and saying something that will hurt someone’s feelings,” she admitted, “Interacting with people makes me anxious.”

“Whoa,” Jaime’s eyes widened, “Slow down freckles before you end up sprawled in the aloe bushes come morning. Also, that doesn’t seem to stop you from insulting me.”

Brienne snorted and had to force the corners of her lips not lift, “That’s because you’re easy Jaime. You tell me how you feel loudly and with no reservation. I don’t need to worry that I’ve hurt your feelings and don’t know, because you’ll make sure I know.”

Jaime pursed his lips and seemed to contemplate something, “So if I don’t directly tell you how I feel, you don’t have a clue?”

Brienne bit her lip. “Well, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Jaime ran one of his hands through his hair, “Well fuck, that explains a lot.” He took his drink and set it down beside her on the pool ledge. 

Brienne looked down at him inquisitively. “Explains what?”

Jaime rolled his eyes and then finally tugged so hard on her foot that she fell into the pool with a shout. Her drink spilled out of her hand, and she only took a second to ponder how often the pool was cleaned. This couldn’t be an uncommon occurrence.

The moment she resurfaced, Jaime had her pressed up against the pool wall, a hand brushing aside her wet locks of hair. Before she could yell at him, he spoke lowly, “Last time, when I did this, and told you, you had astonishing eyes…”

Brienne’s eyes widened and her heart sped up in her chest. She knew what she had  _ wanted _ his actions and words to mean. But Jaime had backed off when she told him, ‘Why thank you. You have very nice eyes as well.’

“…You’re telling me I should have just told you I love you, let’s fuck—“

“What?” Brienne squeaked.

“And you would have taken that at face value?”

Brienne’s brain was all in a flurry, “You what? You want to what?”

Jaime leaned in and pressed his lips to the junction of her neck and shoulder, warmer than the water surrounding them. “Not now because you and I have enough alcohol in us that it’ll only be good and not great, and Brienne…” he pulled away and smirked at her, “I want it to be great.” 

Brienne whimpered and pressed her thighs together.

“Do you believe me? Do you want to fuck?”

Brienne blinked, took a couple deep breaths, and then she murmured shyly, “Can we at least kiss until then?”

And for a moment Jaime looked bewildered, “By the Seven, that  _ was _ all I had to say?”

And then he pressed his mouth to hers frantically and he felt so unbelievably warm as she wrapped herself around him. In the end, she didn’t join the others, but instead dragged Jaime up to her room, where they fondled until they were sober and promptly fucked until they fell asleep.

And it  _ was _ great.

The morning after - while they were floating around in the empty pool on a large inflatable flamingo, Brienne back in her blue bikini - she startled slightly and popped her head up to shout at Jaime in horror, “You know I love you too right Jaime?”

Jaime grinned and kissed the freckles on her collarbone, “Now I do.”


End file.
